


Five Perspectives or Things that may have gone down in Hell

by Turtlepearlove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 17:28:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turtlepearlove/pseuds/Turtlepearlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five perspectives of things that may have happened in 'the cage'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Perspectives or Things that may have gone down in Hell

i.

Samuel Winchester's soul flies around the room like strands of cotton candy caught with the wind. And Micheal sometimes thinks, he would keep a piece just to annoy Lucifer.

Back when they were younger and God had just created Earth, Lucifer would explore with endless excitement. With a song in his lips for every new crook, cranny and mountain he conquered. Earth was new and beautiful and untainted before father had begun with life and later humans and Lucifer sulked like an older, ignored child.

At the end of the day when he picks up the pieces Lucifer hums a tune, just like he used to, picks up flayed bits of Samuel Winchester's soul and looks happy.

.ii.

 

Micheal is not bored, he had been taught patience from his earliest days and his faith in father is unwavering. 

So on most days he sits in his corner of the box (prison) and tries to see the lesson that his father is trying to teach. And on the particularly long days he flips through Adam's soul like a storybook.

Life on Earth seems short and painful, of an absentee father, a busy mother and far few and in between bursts of joy that seems worthless against the torment of perpetual heart ache.

He looks at Adam's memories, his first date, first kiss, of Jennifer Lawrence's hair tangled between his fingers or the first set of fireworks that John had taken him out to see.

He see's Adam's mother, softened by moonlights pressing the lightest of kisses on his forehead, "sleep tight sweetheart"  
and Micheal feels something akin to envy.

.iii.

Lucifer likes Sam's soul.

It's firefly bright, flickering and delicate and fairyfluff soft, bends against his fingers.

And Sam would clamp his jaws together arch back and swallow whole those whimpers of pain.

It would have been wholly uninteresting if Sam had been fragile, if he would have broken into pieces like Adam's soul probably would.

But poor little Sammy had been Daddy's soldier, with PT courses from the age of 10, had more bullet wounds than hugs would not break so easily against Lucifer's knifes (or chains, or whips, or those lovely metallic hooks strung up) would rather writhe and writhe in pain, till the very end with his soul fragmented beg to stop.

And oh that victory was so much sweeter, with those eyes filled with tears, so utterly plaint begging for anything to stop the pain.  
And Lucifer would push in, a little harder, a little better, to see the fragmented colors of pain behind Sam's soul. And Sam himself, such a pretty human being- muscles taut, hair matted down with sweat would grip Lucifer's forearms and say "please" in an utterly broken way.

But Lucifer did, at the end of these sessions pick up Sam's soul. every strand of varying colors, leap into life and struggle from his finger tips.  
"So very stubborn" he would muse and coax them together- inch by inch of softest spoken promises.

Even if he is the one to break Samuel Winchester's soul- he always puts them back together.

.iv.

Adam hates hell.

even the modified version of cage he is stuck in with.

Where Micheal is still blindingly bright- white wings and pacing can't get out.  
And Lucifer is smiling happily every time Adam glances up- contemplative and inquisitive in a way that makes Adam's skin crawl.

Sam looks scared, every time Adam looks, flinches every time Lucifer moves his arms, even though he looks hale, healthy and un-scarred.

Adam is not stupid, he knows that hell was not supposed to be a joy ride- even though that was not where he was supposed to be.  
almost resentful, because he had his fair share of suffering, God did he! Childhood with absentee parents aside, the horrible way he dies ought to have been enough. Ripped apart, inch by inch by monsters who drank his blood and chewed on his flesh.

But here he is, stuck in a cage with roaring hell fire and screams echoing in a distance and Lucifer.  
Lucifer with his ever pleasant, spine chilling smile that makes Adam want to throw up.

So he knows the truth, at least the bit of it, like a bright light on the periphery that he tries so hard to ignore.  
Like the fact that he sleeps in hell- when no one else seems to. Eyes closed into utter oblivion, that it always starts when Sam and Lucifer go missing.

Or that sometimes, sometimes just before the darkness falls he can hear Sam scream, Sam beg like his throat is being ripped out from his body.   
Like Sam who flinches when Lucifer is around, Sam who bends down like he doesn't want to be seen, doesn't want to exist, Sam whose eyes remind him of John no longer smiles reassuringly, fades into black he is almost grateful for oblivion. 

.v.

Sam is indifferent to hell.

Sam hates hell, Sam deserves Hell, Sam did the right thing but ended up in Hell.

Sam is there- every second, torn apart into different pieces and Sam feels everything and then nothing.

It takes him a decade to break, a decade of knives, chains, clamps and whips for him to finally scream for mercy.  
When the first bit of white light, now raw red gets ripped apart he knows that his soul is breaking- and then he can't stop screaming.

So then he begs, if it makes Lucifer stop, scream and scream till his throat is burned raw and voice runs out on him, hoping, praying that there is some sort of salvation.  
But it starts all over again, in dreams and memories, everything ripped clean like memories from memories till he wishes, really really wishes that he would cease into existence.

"Do you want me to stop Sammy?"  
Lucifer sounds kind, thoughtful even, soft.  
"Please please just anything"

His fingers feel soft against Sam skin, trails down his cheekbones, softer and softer  
"Anything Sammy" he teases "you can't go back on your words"

His spine is cracked, like a thin layer of ice underfoot, spit in ways unimaginable that pain if just a dull overwhelming buzz.  
Lucifer's fingers brush across and everytime, the pain lessens a little bit.

"You really are my bitch in every way possible"  
It doesn't sound bitter, doesn't sound vindictive, just a plain statement of fact.

Just a plain statement of fact that he can stand that those nine inch nails that Lucifer had run into his spine, so Sam doesn't really retort, not even think of one in his head.

So he lets Lucifer, run his fingers through Sam's hair, where it feels hellfire warm crackling lightening beneath his skin and lulls into an unconscious stream of nothingness.   
He is nestled in the crook of Lucifer's arm, like a child seeking comfort, like a moth to flame, to a burn out till tomorrow where he shall live through this again.

For now Lucifer is warm, all forgiving, all healing angel.

Because in hell Lucifer is the only one that hurts Sam, but in hell Lucifer is the only one that heals him as well.


End file.
